The Merchant Marine Express

Speaking on the late night transit into Douala, it wasn’t without its challenges, however. The weather posed a threat as lingering squalls with periods of deluges making for lackluster visibility into what is already unknown territory for almost everyone onboard, was nerving and added to the sheer terror of it all. I was asked to assist with the Bridge Watch along with the Captain and Second Mate while trying to establish our current position within the narrowing and dimly lighted channel into port. This already after a four hour Watch with only minimal traffic yet the fact that I would endure a lengthy night of watchful vigilance never escaped my mind.

Most of the ship’s compliment would share in the burden of this-so my conscience reminded me. I shouldn’t complain.

The channel buoys which usually blink at night, in orchestrated fashion between paired sets, were now less than reliable, as half the marker’s bulbs burnt out offering only a blip on radar revealing to us the evidence of their existence. And with high tide as the primary determining factor for when all shipping ‘traffic’ were to commence passage through the river, most all inbound or outbound traffic passed by precariously close to one another, and to us, at some point during the passage. The pilot usually tasked to conn a vessel in and out of dangerous and unknown regions such as this, was late in boarding as the point of embarkation was pushed further and further, deep into the snaking channel. The night continued to ply through as darkness eventually turned to a dusk.

We would eventually dock alongside the city pier just a block or so from the start of the town. From the vantage point of the ship’s bridge, I could make out what looked like streets full of shoppers and hawkers off to the ship’s starboard; the longshore gang only having to enter a cheap makeshift barrier from the town, onto the dingy wharf’s promenade. The stench you sensed, after awhile, was over bearing at times. The wafts from nearby garbage piles, and possibly the raw sewage entering into the river where our ship moored up.

This was Africa, however. The sights, smells, and culture reminiscent of what I envisioned from watching those various movies depicting life from the continent whose history blends in with current day events made for an eye opening moment or maybe it was from my memories during my childhood visit to Algiers when I was twelve years old. Nonetheless, the crew seemed happy to finally get underway-bound for sea!

Have a great day!

Tags: MV American Tern